


You Don’t Need To See Me, To Know That You Love Me

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Band Fic, Caretaking, Falling In Love, Fluff and Crack, Love Confessions, M/M, Pillow Talk, Sick Fic, Sleepyhead, drunks, touchy feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22507444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: They didn’t need to be able to see each other’s faces as they said it. Their body heat was enough of a pull that even John’s alcohol clouded mind could understand.For the tumblr prompt: I think you’re my true love.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	You Don’t Need To See Me, To Know That You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fernandeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fernandeth/gifts).



> For the beautiful Fernandeth. I believe this somewhat fits your prompt all though I’ll admit it’s a bit flimsy. Just enjoy the JoSi cuteness!! 💖💖

“Yeah.. yeah just uh, hold up a min—the hell” his eyes blinked rapidly, poorly adjusting to the dark, “are you.. doin’ here? It’s like 3am.”

“Oh, uh..” John stuttered, a pronounced blush forming on his cheeks.

He was half clinging to the doorframe, trying to not fall into the house: unsure if he was allowed in.

  
“How drunk are you?”   
  


A cheeky look in those glassy eyes and John held up a hand, he shoved it in Simon’s face and nudged his cheek.

“For Christ’s sake, Johnny.” That stupid grin on the bassist’s face was waking him up.

With a small yet ever so sexy smile, Simon shuffled to the right. He laid out a hand and beckoned John inside.

John staggered his gait, hastily wiping at the sweat coating his forehead and began to traipse inside, alcohol clogging his better judgement and that showed in his uneasy footing.

He practically threw himself at Simon’s sofa, sinking straight into it.

“You gonna be alright” Simon motioned to him, not really being able to see more than a wishy-washy outline, “down.. uh, down here, not going to _throw up_ on my nice, new linoleum tiles now are you?”

John cocked his head, mulling it over.

“You’re going to throw up on my nice, new linoleum tiles now, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” John nodded, bolting to his feet and stumbling headfirst into Simon’s downstairs bathroom.

Simon just sighed, heading for his sofa. His eyes were dropping closed again so he rubbed at them, running another hand through his mussed blonde hair.

A few minutes later and John made a not at all gracious return. His tie was half hanging out of his shirt, his collar up and rumpled and his belt was hanging open.

“I’ll take the” Simon pointed, heaving himself up, “ _sofa_. You just.. rest.. get some rest, John.” Simon ground out, suddenly finding it very hard to shift.

John took a moment, then nodded.

“N-no, you..” John hiccuped, hand fiddling with his skinny tie, “h-have your.. your, ugh, bed Char— oh.”

Simon was drifting back to sleep, head lolling back into the pillows.

Drunk or not, John was more then certain of what he had to do next. It took him longer than he would’ve liked and he desperately tried not to scream as he banged his shin on Simon’s coffee table but he fingered the blanket and shuffled his way back over to him.

Carefully bumping the limp body aside, John hopped in beside him. He splayed Simon out, somehow his vision was clear enough that he could find and fluff up a couple pillows. Not at all gently, he nudged Simon’s head as he plopped him onto it, encasing his own lengthy limbs around the singer.

Clumsy fingers fumbling again with his tie, he eventually yanked it off and chucked it. He pulled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor.

Head still spinning, the room around him wild with runaway colour, John nestled himself in tight beside Simon’s sleeping form. Burying his nose in the singer’s neck caused him to shiver, uttering something.

John, mind ever so foggy, patted him again. This time his voice was clearer.

“… piss off… stupid lil.. mm,” he murmured “Jo, Johnny..”

Unable to stifle a chuckle, John ground his head against Simon’s neck again: practically half asleep.

“Fuckin’.. luv you.. too, so much, Char—” he broke off, with a little giggle “— _lie_.”

His vodka stained lips pressed a messy kiss into Simon’s neck, who stirred.

“..mm..hmm.. _Poofter_.”

“Yeah.. tru.. true” John hiccuped, “love.”

Pulling away, John pretty much collapsed into Simon again, immediately a dead weight.

They fell asleep just like that. Simon sprawled out on his sofa and a never quite sober John wrapped round him, fingers in his hair, lips buried in his neck.


End file.
